Fate False Enkrateia
by Sesto
Summary: Three weeks before the Fifth Holy Grail War begins, a person finds themselves trapped in a world they once believed to be fiction. He has only one desire now: to return home. And he is willing to accomplish this regardless of the sacrifices he will have to make. This is the story of two: a man who thinks himself to be a monster, and a monster who thinks himself to be man.
1. Prologue

Atop Mount Enzou, a dark void leaked its contents onto the world.

Black tar covered the mountaintop. It was already beginning to overflow and make its descent towards the unsuspecting town below.

A lone teenager stood in this river of mud. The mud flowed around his feet, yet he felt no pain. Instead, it seemed to welcome him, wrapping around his legs as if he were some long lost friend.

He let it have its way with him. There was no reason to fight it – his purpose had already been fulfilled; his story was already over.

Out of all the possible futures, only one remained. The 5th Holy Grail War had been one of complete despair, and all who participated in it had already met their ends. Now, as the mud reached the outskirts of the town, the only thing left on the red string of fate was unconditional destruction.

It had all begun with the simple desire to be born; the desire to live. Everything: all the death, suffering, and betrayal, had been a result of this simple wish.

And after all this time, that wish was finally coming true.

 **Fate/False Enkrateia**  
 _This is the story of two: a man who thinks himself to be a monster, and a monster who thinks himself to be man._

 **Prologue** _(January 7th, three weeks prior)_

As the morning sun shone through the classroom windows, Rin sat at her desk, her mind anywhere but.

Around her, her classmates were chatting about their daily lives. From an upcoming test to a television program that aired last night, the things they discussed were relatively normal, for the lives they possessed were just that: normal. Normal lives belonging to normal people.

The girl sitting alone, however, did not possess such a life.

Only three more weeks, she thought to herself. In a few weeks, a battle of Magi would take place secretly within the city of Fuyuki. Heroes from across time would be summoned by skilled Magi and a battle to the death would begin. All of it in an attempt to obtain the mystical Holy Grail, an omnipotent device that can grant wishes.

The Holy Grail War.

Even now, the words of her father – her teacher – were etched into her mind. It was her duty to win, and she would fulfill that duty, without a doubt.

But the time for that had still yet to come.

She sighed quietly to herself when she heard the homeroom teacher enter. A state of silence quickly fell over the busy room as the students moved to their seats.

"A new transfer student will be joining you today," he said, in his regular impassive voice. He looked towards the opened door. "Enter and make your introductions."

When the new student entered, the class was beget with excitement, and some students began to whisper to one another. It was simple to understand why: from his light skin and dark blond hair it was apparent that he was a foreigner, which would make him possibly the first foreign student in Homurahara Academy's history.

Once he reached the front of the room, the foreigner took a moment to observe his bustling new classmates with a warm smile on his face. After the homeroom teacher quieted the class, the student began.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Charles Sennett, but please, I wish for you all to call me Charles. I have come to Japan from my home country of England, and although I've been taught Japanese from one of my many tutors, I am not akin to all your customs yet. I pray that you will all be patient as I learn."

Immediately after he finished speaking, the classroom flared up once again. Rin could not blame them. Their new classmate carried an almost royal demeanor, as if he were some foreign prince. He spoke in a manner that extruded confidence, yet he still possessed an air of invitation, one that gave the impression that he would be a trustworthy friend. For the average student, a person like that could have only been pulled out of the realm of fantasy.

"Quiet down," the homeroom teacher repeated. In comparison to the new student, his presence was a stringent one, so the class quickly subdued, although reluctantly. "Sennett-kun, there is an open spot between Tohsaka and Nishio. Take a seat so we can begin homeroom."

Rin could still hear the continued gossiping of those around her, and she was beginning to suspect this would cause a ripple effect throughout the school. Even setting aside his outlandish personality, a sudden transfer this far into the term was too bizarre to go unnoticed.

Seemingly unconcerned of how all eyes were on him, Sennett made his way to his seat. And as he passed Rin, their eyes met for a short moment. She felt like he was going to say something, but he simply nodded his head slightly in greeting, and took his seat.

Although it had only been a short moment, Rin could not help but feel a strange sensation inside her. There was something _off_ about her new classmate, but she could not tell what. She felt it at the tip of her tongue, as if the reason was so glaringly obvious it was impossible for her not to see it, yet she still could not come to a conclusion.

But it was only a slight sensation; nothing worth mulling over, so she resigned, put the thought into the back of her mind, and focused on listening to homeroom.

* * *

"So, about those rumours…"

During an early morning within the quiet and serene archery dojo of Homurahara Academy, two friends were using the time before class to have some tea.

"What rumours?" asked Rin, the more reserved of the two, as she took a sip of the hot tea.

"The ones about you and Charles, obviously." Ayako replied, with slight agitation in her voice. "You haven't beaten me at our little competition, have you?"

Despite the calmness of the morning, as soon as Rin heard the mention of Sennett her mood immediately worsened. It had been three weeks since that foreigner had transferred into the school. And to Rin, those three weeks had been the most tiring weeks of the past year.

Sennett had become incredibly popular, incredibly fast. This rise in popularity could be attributed to many things: his distinct approachableness, his prince-like personality, or his above-average looks, but whatever the case, he was now one of the most-talked about students at the school.

Under normal circumstances, Rin would be fine with this. Besides maintaining her own status as school idol, she did not care much about any social circles within the school. There was only one problem. Sennett, for whatever reason, did his best to make maintaining her perfect honour student appearance harder for her.

Every morning, without fail, he would greet her. During lunch, he would often ask if she would like to eat together. After school, he would propose that they walk home together. And since he seemed he lived quite close to her, there were even times where he would find her on the way to school and begin chatting with her, as if they were close friends.

Being the school idol, this was not uncommon to Rin. Many boys have annoyed her like he has, but none have ever been so stubborn. Most get the picture after one rejection. Some don't understand until it is put bluntly. However, this foreigner took rejection like it was nothing. After every rejection he would simply smile, laugh it off, and say 'Oh, maybe next time!', as if it wasn't a big deal.

Somehow, this just made her even more annoyed.

But that was not even the worst part. Because of his popularity, anything Sennett did at school was noticed. And as a result, rumours had quickly begun to circulate, rumours that still made their way through the halls of the school. And Ayako had obviously picked up on them.

Sighing, she replied. "They're nothing but rumours."

"Oh?" Ayako said, grinning. "Are you sure? I've heard some pretty crazy things. Some say that you two are engaged, from an arranged marriage planned between both of your parents. Others say he is some sort of rich suitor, come to take you away to England after the two of you graduate. I've even heard that you two are long lost childhood friends, and that you both made a promise when you were young that you would marry when you got older."

Rin, who had been taking another drink of her tea, almost spit it out after hearing Ayako's response. She actually had to contain her laughter. What was that last one?

"None of those are true, Mitsuzuri-san. Or are you just hoping they are so you'll never have to see my charming face again?"

Ayako laughed. "I'm not that cruel, Tohsaka. I may be your rival, but if you left, things would get a lot more boring around here.

And besides, what's with that attitude? I know you've rejected a bunch of guys before, but Charles seems to be a pretty alright one. I figured you would at least give him a chance."

Just as Ayako said, Rin knew that many girls would love to be in her position. And if the circumstances had been different, perhaps she would have even given him a chance, if only to get him to stop annoying her. But there was one key misunderstanding in Ayako's questioning.

"Sennett-kun hasn't actually confessed to me."

Ayako's face lit up in surprise. "What do you mean he hasn't confessed? He is clearly interested." She took a few seconds to think of an explanation, and a smile slowly formed on her face. "Do you think maybe he is afraid to? Knowing you, I don't think it is that farfetched. Who knows how cruel your rejection would be."

"Maybe you should ask him yourself." Rin replied, after taking one last sip of her tea. "I don't know, and I don't really care to find out."

Even so, although she did not particularly mind his requests, – every school idol needs a couple stubborn admirers, after all – maintaining her mask grew tiring after a while. She would have preferred it to end sooner rather than later.

But whatever the reasoning for Sennett's pestering, she had other worries. Tonight, she would finally join the Holy Grail War. She had no time for a petty school romance. The battle of her lifetime was just about to begin; a battle she was absolutely determined to win.

* * *

"Y-Youuuuuuuuuu…!"

Within the darkness of Fuyuki, a battle between immensely powerful beings was raging on. Just as the killing blow was about to be struck, a bystander moved to jump in the way.

This bystander pushed away an injured girl and was immediately met with a massive blow from a giant more than twice his size. He collapsed onto the cold asphalt, his stomach completely blown away by the attack.

"—Why?"

All those watching the scene could only gasp in surprise. Rin, who knew that the bystander had been forced into the war, was perhaps most surprised of all. He had no wish, no reason to fight, yet he had risked his life to protect his Servant. And now, he lied in a pool of blood, all for nothing.

"…That's enough. This is boring." Said a young girl who was standing behind the monstrous giant. Just as she looked like she was about to leave, she left one final comment. "—Rin, I'll kill you if I see you again."

Rin ignored this comment, and immediately ran towards the bystander in a panic.

"…W-What were you thinking!? Don't you know I can't save you again…!?"

When she reached him, she could clearly see that it was much worse than it first appeared. His entire stomach had been blown away like it was nothing. But despite the severity of the wound, the boy somehow appeared to be still holding onto his life.

"Don't worry."

Suddenly, a voice coming from nearby took her away from the gruesome sight. She turned to look at the speaker and saw someone in a student uniform with a hooded figure behind him. Their faces were cloaked in shadow, making it impossible to see who they were.

As she stared at the two, the student began to walk towards her.

"He will be okay," he stated, as if nothing were wrong, "but we should hurry and get him out of here."

And as he got closer, she realized that mysterious student had dark blond hair, and was not Japanese.

Suddenly, her mood worsened.


	2. The Contract

**Chapter 1 - The Contract** _(January 6th, three weeks prior)_

A student, holding an old tome, paced back and forth in the dark basement. The night was brim with anticipation as he repeated the words quietly to himself, over and over. The entire day had been spent preparing for this moment, and he would not screw it up.

Finally deciding the time was right, he gently placed the book on a nearby desk and then grabbed the red vials that had been waiting for him. Holding the vials in his hand, he went back to the middle of the room, and stared down at the engraving on the floor he had done only a while earlier.

"Well, I suppose I should begin."

Yesterday, Charles had been an average student. He had gone to school, hung out with his friends, and had dinner with his family. A normal life; a life he had been completely satisfied with.

This morning, however, everything had changed. He had awoken to find himself in a foreign country, in a place known as Fuyuki City, within an empty mansion.

The mysterious mansion he had awoken to had been completely empty. There were no servants, maids, or any other type of staff. And strangest of all, there were no tenants, either. No one actually appeared to be living in the mansion. In fact, after examining it earlier in the day, he had quickly come to the conclusion that no one had lived there for quite some time.

But despite its lack of occupancy, the mansion was not barren. It was full of many basic necessities, from food to clothing. And if that was not enough, it also contained uncommon items such as magical texts, to the point where there was an entire library full of them.

It was almost as if someone had prepared everything for him ahead of time.

Under normal circumstances, Charles would have only been confused. Being stranded in a foreign country was definitely a worrisome situation, but he had been given more resources than he could ever possibly need, including large sums of money and identification. With this, it would not be hard for him to contact an embassy and return home.

But these were not normal circumstances. Three things stood out from the rest, three things that made his already unbelievable story into something from fantasy.

First: Although he had never spoken a word of it in his life, he was now completely fluent in the Japanese language.

Second: He could no longer consider himself an ordinary human. The Magic Circuits within him and the Mark of the Chosen on his hand marked him as something far more.

He was a Magus.

But even so, there was one last thing that was even stranger than his newfound mastery of the Japanese language or his sprouting talent as a Magus. The one thing that defined everything and anything that would come in the next few weeks.

This world was not his own.

Fuyuki City, the city he now found himself in, was supposed to be fictitious. Thaumaturgy, the ability he now possessed, was not real. Magi, something he could now consider himself to be, were only characters created for fictional stories.

But somehow, that fictitious universe he had known and loved had come to life before his eyes.

Charles did not know why this had happened to him, nor did he know how. The only thing he knew was that a path had been set for him. And although it gave him a bad taste in his mouth, he would follow this path. He would follow it until the very end.

He would become a participant in the 5th Holy Grail War.

Removing the stoppers from each vial, he began to pour the red substance onto the floor. The metallic tang of blood instantly made its way into the air. The blood fell into place and filled the engraving, and as it did, he repeated the words one last time.

 _"Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Five perfections for each repetition. And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead."_

Once completed, he stepped back from the newly formed summoning circle, and continued.

 _"Ye first, O silver, O iron. O stone of the foundation, O Archduke of the Contract._

 _Let the descending winds be as a wall. Let the gates in all directions be shut, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve."_

He threw the empty vials to the side, still staring at the circle. The sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the basement. This sound helped bring the image to his mind, and he felt the sensation of a switch being flipped. Prana rushed through his body, igniting his every nerve with a burning pain.

He raised his arm.

 _"Set –_

 _– Set."_

Once the circle started to glow a blue hue, he finally understood there was no turning back.

Despite his actions, Charles held no delusions that the Grail would grant him a miracle. He was well aware of the corruption behind it; the only wish it could grant now was complete and utter destruction.

So why would he bother? Why would he risk his life to fight in a war that he had no part in?

To some, the idea of going into a fictional universe would be a dream come true; a fantasy becoming reality. In the case of the Grail War, although the risk of death was incredibly high, he knew that many in his original world would have given anything to participate in it. The chance to live a life out of the ordinary, one of a hero in some grand adventure, was far too tempting to pass up on.

But Charles held an entirely different mindset. There was no excitement within him. This was not some game, or a fantasy coming true.

It was more like a nightmare.

 _"Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade._

 _If thou submitteth to the call of the Holy Grail, and if thou wilt obey this mind, this reason, then thou shalt respond."_

When he had first awoken, he had found a torn piece of paper on the bedside table. A simple note, containing only a single sentence, yet even now it gave him a sense of dreadful foreboding.

 ** _"Win the Holy Grail War, and you will be set free."_**

Had he not found this note, had he instead just awoken to a new world full of possibilities, perhaps he might have been able to find some shred of enjoyment. Perhaps he might have been able to be happy escaping into this fantasy, ignoring his old life like it was just a part of him that was meant to be forgotten.

But after reading it, he knew that was impossible.

Unlike many, Charles had never been the type to fantasize about escaping into fictional universes. Although he did enjoy reading fiction, he understood it to be just that – fiction. A glimpse into worlds of unimaginable fantasy, a beautiful yet tempting creation meant to entice the wondrous thing known as imagination. It was not a substitute for life, but merely a temporary escape from its rocky roads.

He enjoyed his life. He enjoyed going to school, he enjoyed hanging with his friends, and he enjoyed spending time with his family. Others in his position might find life boring, and those people might constantly fantasize about grand adventures, but Charles was not like that. He had no regrets about the life he lived: he was just happy to be alive, with all the people he loved and cared about.

But that life had been taken away. Taken away, and replaced with a nightmare.

 _" – I make my oath here."_

The implications of the note were clear. If he can win the war, he will be free from this prison. Free to return home. Free to return to his family and friends that he holds so dear.

But if he cannot win; if he fails, or if he tries to run away, he will be stuck here forever. And that was the one thing he would not let happen.

 _"I am that person who is to become the virtue of all Heaven."_

He did not know the true motivation of the Magus who had brought him here. But nonetheless, if he were to win the war, the end result was guaranteed. The long lasting wish of humanity would finally be granted, and one carrying "All the World's Evils" would be born. Thousands upon thousands would die, and the destruction would reach catastrophic levels.

Perhaps this was exactly what the Magus wanted. And if that was the case, Charles would grant him his wish.

He would bring forth Angra Mainyu into the world.

 _"I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades."_

He understood his actions would force him to kill the characters he had grown attached to over the years. He understood that it meant he would have to stand by and watch as thousands upon thousands die.

But if that is what must be done, then so be it.

No matter how real it seemed, he could not bring himself to think of this world as anything more than fiction. It was hard not to. He had spent years enjoying the stories that took place in it, delving into its lore and history over countless hours. To see it come to life after all this time was like being trapped in a fairy tale he already knew the ending to. The world around him was nothing more than an imitation of life, forged by the passion of a single man. The lives he would have to sacrifice were only the lives possessed by the characters of this story; not true, living, breathing human beings. His actions would be nothing more than the simple altering of the words on the page; replacing a happy ending with a tragic one, a fulfilled life with a cursed one. It was a mere rewrite, taking away the happiness of fictional characters to achieve his own.

In the end, it did not truly matter what happened to this world or the characters in it. Even if Angra Mainyu were to cause destruction beyond imagining, if he were to return home, the stories he knew would still be the same, and the characters in them would still share the same fates. The events of this particular version of the story made no difference in the big picture.

In that sense, it was like a dream. Nobody is ever afflicted with long lasting guilt over the horrible things they might have done in their dreams, because the world of the dream no longer matters after the dreamer awakens.

And so, once he frees himself from this dream that was forced upon him; after he returns home, to his normal life, he will come to forget this world like it were any other nightmare.

Holding this belief in his heart, he would carry forward, and he would win the war. No matter how difficult it would be, no matter the cost, and no matter the sacrifices he would have to make.

And after all of that, he would return home.

Or so he hoped.

 _" Thou, whose true identity hast been long forgotten, answer the call of 'Assassin' and return once more to be a murderer in the shadows."_

The mark on his hand glowed as he began the final step. The basement was completely illuminated with the blue light, and the air continued to blow widely. It pushed against his face as he said the final words.

And as he did, he took his first step into the ever looming darkness, and began down the long, ominous path before him.

 _"Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words, come past thy restraining rings, and be thou the hands that protect the balance!"_

The blue light filled the room, blinding his vision. When it returned, he finally saw who he was to call his partner in the coming battle.

Through the fog, in the middle of the circle, stood a man wearing an intricately designed doublet: elaborate patterning detailed his outfit, and it was trimmed with a striking golden colour, which melded smoothly with the dark gray it was dyed with. A thin hooded cloak sat upon his shoulders.

Although his hood was up, it was apparent that the man was relatively young, likely somewhere in his mid-twenties, and that he had black hair of medium length.

Effortlessly, the man removed his hood, a silky voice leaving his lips as he did. "I assume you are the one who summoned me?"

"I am. My name is Charles Sennett."

The formality in his speech was all Charles could to do avoid being tongue-tied. He might have prepared vigorously for this, but no amount of foreknowledge could have prepared him for the sheer miracle that had just been performed before his eyes. What now stood before him was a Servant; a legendary Heroic Spirit capable of performing feats of immeasurable skill. Never in a million years had he expected a day like this would come.

"Then let the contract be formed." The man bowed, as if in the presence of royalty. "Servant Assassin, at your service."

It was then that Charles broke out of his dazed state, finally registering the burning pain he felt on the back of his hand. The faded outline that had previously been bruised there was now completely engraved in the form of Command Spells, their appearance being that of two swords intersecting a singular circle.

But he did not even take the moment to look at them. He was still absorbed – and confused – by his Servant's introduction to care.

A charming smile, enchanting azure eyes, and a soft yet defined jawline. The Servant before him possessed all that and more; truthfully, it was the face of a man who likely had the attention of many ladies in life.

But it was not the face he had been expecting. Not in the slightest.

"You are not Hassan-i-Sabah." It was not a question, but a declaration.

"No," Assassin replied, his charming smile beginning to look the slightest bit impish, "I am not. Perhaps you are disappointed?"

"That's not it; this shouldn't even be possible. If you're not the Old Man of the Mountain, then who are you?"

"Some person else, evidently."

Amusement shadowed Assassin's features, which made Charles' brow furrow in a slight impatience. "Yes, I can see that. But what is your true name?"

"Answer me this: what degree of assassin would reveal their identity at the first request?" Assassin asked, his voice taking upon an almost theatrical tone. "A poor one, I think. And I am pleased to assure you that the man standing before you is not of such a lowly standard."

Despite everything; despite the emotional rollercoaster he had experienced since he had first awoken in this nightmare, Charles had to let out a little laugh. It felt like it had been the first time he had laughed in ages, and it felt good.

"Fine, have it your way," he finally said in resignation.

Assassin lowered his head slightly, seemingly in respect. "For humouring my foolishness, I offer my thanks." Without allowing Charles to say anything further, he continued. "If you truly wish to know, I implore you to use a Command Spell. I assure you, however, you will gain little benefit from doing so other than the satisfaction of having bested myself. The name I carry is of little importance, and will offer you nothing that my job description could not."

The rules of the war were clear: Hassan-i Sabbah was supposed to be the name for all possible candidates for the Assassin class. Any other true assassin would have failed to be recognized, therefore fulfilling their role as anonymous killers. Of course, there were a few exceptions to this rule, but they were only special cases.

Was it possible he had messed up the summoning somehow? He tried to retrace the steps in his head, but came up with no reason for why something like this had occurred.

Whatever the case, Assassin was right in the respect that it did not matter. The fact still remained that he had summoned a Servant of the Assassin class, just as planned. And even if he found Assassin's identity and his strange refusal to give it slightly curious, the time to work out that puzzle would have to hold off until later.

"I guess I'll take your word for it," he said, turning away from his Servant to retrieve the tome from earlier. "Anyway, let's continue our talk somewhere else." He had already spent enough of tonight in this dungeon-like basement. "Follow me."

Assassin silently nodded in acceptance, dematerializing in the same instance. It was then that Charles began ascending the stairs with the tome in hand. When he reached the top, he opened the door and stepped into one of the many narrow hallways that occupied his new residence.

Despite being located in Japan, the mansion was of western design. Paintings hung on the walls, the rooms were all filled with lavish decorations and furniture of the finest quality, and the floor was covered in red decorative carpeting. Even the servant's quarters were nothing to be scoffed at; the owner had spared little expense.

All of it mattered little to Charles, however. As fancy as his new residence was, it was nothing more than a meaningless supplement to a life he had never asked for. Truthfully, a smaller residence would have been preferable, as the empty rooms and long hallways only brought about a feeling of loneliness. The only purpose they served was as a reminder of the life that had been taken from him.

Once he came to the staircase to the second floor, he headed up it and was again met with another narrow hallway. He continued down it until he reached his new room.

The room was smaller than most of the other bedrooms in the house, as it was likely intended for long-term guests. Beyond the furnishings you would come to expect from a house like this, it also contained a rather large desk and a matching bookcase, one of which was currently filled with a variety of magical texts he had extracted from elsewhere in the house.

After placing the tome in its proper place, he took a glance at the desk. It was currently cluttered with the remnants of the day's events: various books related to Thaumaturgy were sprawled open, and a pile of documents were stacked to the side. A small silver ring sat atop the documents conspicuously.

He quickly cleared up the books that covered the table, then turned towards his Servant. Assassin had already materialized, and was examining the room.

"So, where were we?" He said, interrupting Assassin's inspection.

"This is quite the beautiful household," Assassin replied. Not bothering to pause, he continued his way around the room. His eyes darted across the interior as he did, giving him the air of one acquainted to such lavish homes.

Charles could not help but grin at the clear deflection of the question. "You're right, it is."

"Is it perhaps a family villa of sorts?"

"A villa?" A wry chuckle left Charles' lips. "I guess you could call it something like that. It's a rather convenient location for one, isn't it?"

"Very." Assassin said, his eyes tinted with amusement. The way he carried himself, together with his elaborate attire, reminded Charles almost of aristocracy. Was it possible he was royalty? No – more likely a close servant of royalty. Were there any royal lines with famous personal assassins? He would have to look into it later. It was already clear he was not going to get anything out of Assassin, at least for tonight.

"But enough about the house. I'm sure you'd rather discuss our strategy, right?"

Assassin's stopped in his tracks, only a few paces away, his lips making their way into a smile once again. Somehow, Charles had a funny feeling he would be seeing a lot of that smile in the coming weeks. "That would be splendid."

It was finally time to get down to business. He took a deep breath, and then began.

"We still have a few weeks before the real war begins. I summoned you fairly early, so most of the other Masters haven't even gathered yet."

In fact, if he remembered correctly, the two of them were the only pair in Fuyuki at the moment. Most of the other Servants would not be summoned for a week or two, and the one already summoned was miles away, in a completely different country.

"For the time being, we're just going to lie low and wait. I plan to attend a local school to keep up appearances, but other than that the plan is to simply avoid attracting any unnecessary attention. If you get bored, feel free to take a tour of the city or something. I won't mind."

For the first time that night, Assassin's expression soured, if only subtly. "I would prefer to spend my time in a more efficient manner. Will we not need to do any scouting?"

"I'll handle the scouting myself. You won't need to worry about that."

"Forgive me if I have my doubts. I am sure you are a skilled Magus, but I do not see how anything you possess could outperform my Presence Concealment."

Charles could not blame his skepticism. Out of any of the classes, Assassin was without a doubt the most suited for reconnaissance. His rejection of assistance seemed strange no matter how you looked at it.

But Assassin was unaware of the big picture. In this situation, scouting was not only unnecessary, it could even prove hazardous once the other Masters start to show up. Their best bet was to avoid doing anything unnecessary for now, lest they attract any unwanted attention.

Yet even with that said, it was not like he was capable of explaining his circumstances to Assassin.

"I'm sorry, but you're just going to need to trust me. If I do end up needing your help, I'll let you know."

Although he had expected more skepticism, after a few seconds of silence the doubt in Assassin's expression died down, and began to look more like curiosity.

"As you wish, then," he eventually said, his eyes giving off a hint of scrutiny. "Perhaps I may even take you up on your suggestion. But I do have to ask: why did you summon me so early, if not to use my talents?"

"For insurance, of course," Charles replied, in a half-joking, half-serious manner. A certain conniving witch stuck in his mind. "You never know what might happen. I'd rather not die before the war even begins."

Assassin laughed. "I am quite surprised: despite your age, you appear quite confident and prepared for what lies ahead. Truly, the ideal Magus."

Now it was Charles' turn to be curious. "What do you know of Magi?"

"Little, I'm afraid. But I am aware of how they pride themselves on their methodical way of life. I am sure your father would be proud."

 _-H-Huh?_

A sharp, needle-like pain struck his chest at the sound of Assassin's words. Nausea rose within him like the temperature of a kettle near-boil, and he could feel sweat forming on his brow.

 _-What is wrong with my body?_

As to avoid showing weakness in front of his Servant, he turned around, doing all he could to hold himself together. Shifting all his weight onto his hands, he pressed them hard against them desk, praying he would not topple over.

"If I said something unnecessary, I apologize."

A voice called out to him, one that he recognized to be Assassin's, yet it seemed like it was a worlds away. He wanted to reply, to say it was okay; that he was fine. But he could not. He feared his voice would tremble, just like his hands currently trembled. Things were definitely not fine. And he had no idea why.

Just when he thought his heart would explode from how fast it was beating, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A silver ring, encrusted with a small, emerald cut ruby.

The nausea died, his heart calmed, his hands stilled.

"Don't worry about it," he finally said, after he could no longer hear the loud pounding of his heart. When he turned back around, he was grateful to see that Assassin's expression had done little to change.

"Are you certain?" Assassin asked, with a voice that almost sounded sincere. "You did not look well."

No, Charles was anything but certain. What had just transpired made even less sense to him that it likely did to Assassin. Why he had reacted like that; the reason the ring had calmed him so quickly, none of it made any sense.

Overexertion seemed the most likely candidate. The stress from his situation, the physical exertion from the day's events, and the toll from the summoning had finally caught up to him, and crashed down upon him all at once. The sensation from earlier was just his body's way of telling him to take a break.

Then again, it was also possible that that was just the most convenient excuse.

Whatever the case, the fatigue in him was undeniable: even though the attack had passed, his body still weighed down on him, and his mind still felt clouded. Whether it was the source of his strife or not, he needed rest, preferably sooner rather than later.

"It's okay, really. I think I just need some rest."

Assassin held his gaze for a few moments longer, giving Charles the impression he did not believe the excuse. But eventually, he gave a lighthearted sigh in resignation. "Perhaps that would be for the best."

"If you have any more questions, we can talk in the morning," Charles added, attempting to sound as casual as possible. "Take one of the empty rooms for your own if you'd like, it's not like they'll see any use otherwise."

Assassin waved away the offer with a motion of his hand. "Thank you, but I must decline. I am satisfied with remaining in spiritual form until you need my assistance." With that, he gave a slight nod in farewell. "Until tomorrow, then." He then lifted his hood up, and moved to make his exit for the night.

Charles watched him leave, a lingering doubt still in his mind. Although they had spoken for some time, he still felt there was still something left unsaid. Something he needed to make certain of, before their contract could truly be solidified.

"Before you go, I have one more question to ask you."

Stopping a few paces away from the door, Assassin glanced back with a smile. "I will do my best to answer."

When summoning a Servant, two things should be taken into consideration. The first being the most obvious, something no experienced Magus would overlook: that is, the procurement of a catalyst, preferably with the relation to a legendary figure somewhere in history. But the second is more far more subtle, something that many ignore in favour of summoning the most powerful Servant possible.

Affinity.

The reason is obvious. Without proper compatibility, a Master and Servant may come to conflict with one another. A Master who specializes in trickery, for example, would do best to avoid summoning a knightly Servant who looks down on such tactics, or else the partnership will be flawed from the very beginning.

In Charles case, compatibility had been one of the many reasons he had specifically targeted an Assassin. He had never specifically cared for which of nineteen who took the name of Hassan-i-Sabbah would answer his call, since he figured they all must share a similar mindset on the idea of warfare. Or, at the very least, the Grail would have chosen one that would have good affinity with him.

However, the Grail had chosen someone entirely different; a complete irregularity. And while theoretically the Servant he summoned must share some similarity to him, could Assassin, with his noble bearing, refined speech, and eccentric clothing, really be compared to the archetypical assassin? What if he had accidentally summoned an Assassin who would be against his methods?

"Assassin, how much do you desire the Grail?"

Assassin gave no response. Thinking he needed to elaborate, Charles cleared his throat and continued.

"The Holy Grail War is not a noble event. Many Masters may attempt tactics involving the exploitation or murder of innocents. Others may lie, steal, or break oaths they swore their lives to. And as Heroic Spirits, it is only natural that most Servants would object to these tactics."

Somehow, the air was void of tension, despite the topic at hand. It was completely stagnant; listless.

Before this day, Charles might have shuddered to think about talking of such matters with so little apprehension. But now he found himself asking a question sowed with absolute depravity, and he was completely unaware of the decadence that had befallen him or the delusion he had forced upon himself.

"Which is why I ask again: Assassin, how much do you desire the Grail?

For a while, Assassin simply basked in the listless silence. Although his features were unchanged, Charles could sense a difference in them: they were hollow, possessing no emotion, real or fabricated. The eyes that had seemed so full of life before were now glazed over, staring at Charles with empty intensity.

Eventually, Assassin turned back towards the door, then spoke. "Give me a command, and I will follow it through," he said, in a detached voice that was very unlike his previous one. "Whatever it may be."

Despite himself, gratitude managed to escape Charles' lips. "Thank you."

"There is no need to thank me. Depravity is the companion of every assassin; there is nothing you could ask of me that I have not already done a thousand times over."

With that, Assassin continued his leave, almost as if in a hurry. He passed through the door in a dematerialized state, and Charles was alone once again.

Questions came to mind in regards to Assassin's behaviour, but to Charles, they were far from the only questions at hand. As much as it annoyed him, they would have to wait, like all the other mysteries that had piled up tonight. There was still something far more pressing. Tomorrow was not far away, and with it required careful preparation.

Returning back to his desk, he looked towards the documents sitting in the corner. He moved the ring atop them, trying not to think of what had happened so earlier before, and then flipped through the papers underneath in attempt to make certain everything was in order for tomorrow.

Although yesterday he would have looked at them and not been able to read a single word, as he looked at the documents now two in particular stood out: Homurahara Academy.

Truthfully, out of all the things that had happened to him since he had awoken, the discovery of these enrollment papers had been the least surprising. Perhaps he had even expected it on some level. If the one responsible was willing to prepare him a mansion, enrollment into the local high school was fairly tame in comparison.

He had almost opted out of going to school at first, however. He had figured the time wasted in class could be better used elsewhere, such as preparations for the war. But it had only taken a short while to realize that his enrollment could serve as preparation itself. By going to school, a completely different avenue of attack opened up: one in which, with the help of the silver ring he had been provided, would be absolutely critical in his plan ahead.

And so, tomorrow would signify his first day as a student of Homurahara Academy, and in a sense, his first act of the Holy Grail War.

As everything seemed okay, he put the documents back in their original place. He then turned his attention to the ring he had intentionally put aside before.

Early in the morning, he recalled how he had found it sitting atop the desk, much like how it sat atop it now. At first he had been unaware of its importance, but after some tampering, he had quickly come to the conclusion that is was a Mystic Code designed to conceal the magical presence of a Magus.

Nothing more than one of the many resources given to him for the coming war. But like a soothing breeze on a warm spring day, it had calmed his nerves, returning him to the reality around him just as he thought he was lost.

And as strange as it was, simply looking at it gave him a familiar, nostalgic sensation.

The sensation of home.

He sighed. Maybe it really was just fatigue.

Returning it to the desk, he let go of the ring, and headed for bed.

However, later that night, he would do everything to try and remember that sensation; to remember what it was like, before he had fallen into this hell. As if it were his last chance at salvation, he chased after it desperately, praying it would allow him to see his old life, even if only for a moment.

But no such dreams came to him.

Instead, the only dream he would recall was utter nothingness. A black void, all around him, offering nothing: no comfort, no hostility, just a complete and utter lack of feeling.

Yet, somehow, this nothingness did not feel foreign. It reminded him of home, too.

As for why he felt that way, even he would not know until much, much later.

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** This is a "rewrite" of an old story I once wrote a year or so ago, called Fate/Unbalance. If you read the original, please note I am rewriting it from the ground up, so make sure to read each chapter. And don't spoil the identity of Assassin, lol.

This is not a self-insert story. I intend to clearly explain the identity of the main character (and why he has the knowledge he has). And the reason is not Zelretch.

Feel free to comment any feedback, especially in regards to the technical aspect of my writing. Thanks for reading.


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